


Rum Shots

by addie-cake (MonkeyVenom)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood & Maia Roberts Friendship, Background Clary Fray/Jace Wayland, Background Luke Garroway/Maryse Lightwood, Fix-It, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, Happy Ending, Insecure Alec Lightwood, M/M, Post-2x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:44:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyVenom/pseuds/addie-cake
Summary: After the threats of Valentine and Sebastian are neutralized, Magnus is ready to talk things out with Alec.Alec isn't.-Or, how Alec Lightwood got his groove back.





	Rum Shots

Clary and Izzy are trying to assist the wounded, ignoring their own burning scrapes and gashes as they kneel to draw an iratze or to direct someone to the infirmary. Both act admirably, and no one blames Clary when she stumbles, exhausted and bloody. Izzy hurries over to her friend, heeled boots clicking against stone, and uses the best of her own strength to help Clary stand.

“I think you’ve done enough today,” the dark-haired woman smiles, and Clary nods, half-dazed.

Jace stands back, arms crossed over his chest; he looks over at Alec, gaze softening.

It was…it’s been a long few days. Days full of arguments, fighting, politics, bleeding, dying (and coming back), and now—now they’re all supposed to restructure themselves, both the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders, as if betrayals have never happened or innocent lives were never taken.

Or, as if hearts have never been broken.

Alec looks wrecked; his hazel eyes are tired and watery, and he stands, not with his arms folded behind his back, like his usual stance, but with the limbs falling limply at his side. He still holds his bow in his right hand, as if he’s still afraid that something—someone—is going to show up out of nowhere and attack. Alec looks tired, but his shoulders are straight and tense, his jaw is tight, and his gaze set.

He’s still watching Magnus. The warlock is speaking to Luke and Raphael, and the latter is a bit worse for wear, but he’s conscious, and that’s enough for now. Magnus has one hand on Raphael’s arm, the other in the air as he spreads a blue glow over a particularly large gash on the vampire’s abdomen. Raphael says something, maybe tries to dissuade Magnus from using any more of his magic, but the older man just shakes his head. But he looks up, and he meets Alec’s gaze.

Magnus smiles lightly.

Alec looks away.

Surprised, Jace reaches over to smack his parabatai’s arm. He regrets it, when the taller man hisses in pain. Of course he’s been injured. Everyone has been. Jace still feels light-headed and dead, even when he’s standing right in front of everyone. His chest is heavy, and he knows Alec feels the same.

If, even for a few moments, their bond was broken, they both share the burden of an empty pit in the bottom of their stomachs. Or their hearts. Or their entire bodies. Jace figures it’ll take a while to heal, but he’s okay with that. And he knows that Alec is, too. Right now, though, he can’t sense what his brother is thinking, and he can’t fathom why his parabatai isn’t talking to Magnus, isn’t trying to fix whatever has been shattered in the last few days. If nothing else, Jace can’t understand why Alec isn’t looking at him.

Magnus pats Raphael’s arm, mutters something to the vampire, and lifts himself to his full height before walking toward Jace and Alec. He has a bit of a limp right now, nothing that magic can’t fix, but Alec’s expression makes it seem as if it’s the worst thing he’s ever seen. As if he hadn’t felt his own brother die just a few hours ago.

Jace isn’t mad.

“Jace, I’m glad you’re…upright,” Magnus begins, and it’s almost nice to see the warlock without smooth words or a witty opener. The blond man smiles (or thinks he does—it probably looks more like a grimace) and moves aside so that Magnus and Alec can talk. Jace thinks about finding Clary, and kissing her and her hair and her cheek and every other place he can find, and he hopes that Alec’s thinking about the same thing.

He’s not.

“Are you alright?” Magnus asks Alec, his tone gentle and a bit unsure, and he’s still not able to make complete eye contact, but he does at the end of his question, and Alec suddenly can’t think.

Or, he thinks about how much he’s hurt Magnus the past few weeks. And about how much Magnus has hurt Alec the past few days. They’ve both done a lot of hurting, and it doesn’t make sense that they should be talking to each other right now.

Shrugging, Alec finally pieces together a ridiculous, “I’m okay.” He’s not, and he’s clearly not. His arm is bright with blood, and his chest hurts, and his side is practically on fire, but he supposes that he’s as okay as he could be. He could deal with physical injuries, does so gladly because it’s his job.

He’s not okay emotionally. But Magnus’s small smile is making it a bit better.

“I’m glad. I lost sight of you and Isabelle for a bit. I…I couldn’t help but think the worst,” Magnus says, and he laughs, the sound very hollow. He sobers quickly. “I can look at that arm, if you want—”

“It’s fine. I don’t want you to exert yourself,” Alec insists.

“Right.” Magnus glances off to the side for just a moment, but Alec panics, thinking that he’s losing the older man again. Thankfully, the dark eyes flick back to the taller man, and Magnus’s smile is still in place. “I’m sorry, Alexander.”

“Don’t be,” Alec says hurriedly. “I’m the one who—”

“And I’m the one who almost made a deal with the Seelie Queen. I’m sorry, too.” Magnus doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the silence is thankfully short. “We could have lost each other at any point these past few days.”

_But we didn’t_ , Alec almost argues. He stays mute, to let the older man speak. Magnus deserves that much.

“And I—I almost let my anger control me. Us,” he adds, and this time, he’s staring right into Alec’s eyes. “We’re lucky, so we should…take advantage of that luck.”

Alec tries to keep himself from becoming too hopeful. This is a tense situation, still, and he just nods.

Thoughtfully, Magnus continues, “I shouldn’t have walked away. But you’re right; we always seem to come back to each other.”

Smiling lightly, Alec opens his mouth to respond, but…he has nothing to say. Every part of him wants to kiss Magnus, to agree with him, to say that they’ll figure everything out tomorrow and enjoy each other tonight, but he can’t. He can’t force his hands to move, to grab Magnus’s or to hold his face. With all his might, Alec wants to close the distance between them, but he finds himself unable to do so.  He’s too scared and too hurt.

Magnus is saying every right thing, and he’s saying it all right, but it doesn’t seem real. Against his better judgment, Alec shakes his head, and Magnus looks devastated.

“What if you were right,” Alec breathes, suddenly hating the sound of his own voice. It’s foreign, and it’s _stupid_ , “about us? What if we can’t have it all?” When Magnus doesn’t respond, the Shadowhunter says, “What if we do this again?”

He thinks he’s beginning to make sense, because Magnus’s hopeful smile turns sad, the same way it did when he left. While he was pushy when they first met, Magnus is not forceful. He knows when to hold his tongue, and he knows that he can’t—won’t—pressure Alec into anything.

“I can’t go through that again,” Alec admits. “I can’t.” He begins to say something else, but Magnus puts a hand on his forearm, the touch soft and kind and warm and everything that Alec’s been missing. Suddenly, the young man considers taking all that back and assuring Magnus that it’ll be okay and that it doesn’t matter what they’ve said and done and walked away from—they can make it work, and they’ll be fine.

But he doesn’t.

“I understand,” Magnus mutters.

“I love you—”

Nodding, the warlock pats Alec’s arm. “I know. And I love you, too.”

Alec sighs. This part is going to be the worst. “But I’m not ready.” To talk, to get back together, to be vulnerable again. Maybe Magnus is, but he’s not. “I should—”

“We should go,” Magnus finishes, and it’s clear to someone even as emotionally-oblivious as Alec that the older man is dangerously close to tears. “Just— _please_ , don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

“Of course,” Alec smiles, and it’s outrageously awkward to be having the _‘we-can-still-be-friends’_ talk with Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. But here he is. Having the talk. With Magnus. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” Magnus promises.

* * *

 

He is. And Alec is, to him. They don’t talk, and they don’t think about seeing each other, for a number of weeks. Jace and Izzy act in solidarity and avoid the warlock, as well, but Clary is a free agent. She visits Magnus when she chooses to, and she comes back to the Institute, filling Alec in on little, conversational things.

Yes, he looks fine. No, his apartment isn’t a mess.

Alec isn’t obsessive, and he surprises himself with how easily he stops asking Clary about the well-being of the older man. For a few days, he’s proud of himself, and he even begins to think that _this_ is what Izzy meant when she said that the pain goes away very gradually, and then it’s suddenly gone.

But when the Shadowhunter finds a few smatterings of body glitter on one of his leather jackets, he falls apart, and he climbs into bed, eyes trained on the gold flecks. Instinctively, he grabs his phone, and he is _so_ close to calling Magnus when his senses kick back in. Alec drops his phone onto the mattress, and he lets the jacket slip from his hands onto the floor.

It’s not pretty, how miserable he’s acting, but he’s simply grateful that no one’s around to see him. He’s sure that Jace can feel the heartache but is too aware of his brother’s pride to say anything. Or he _can’t_ feel it. Either way, Alec is thankful.

He glances over the side of his bed, catching sight of the jacket. It’s still his jacket, and it shouldn’t matter that there’s a few pieces of glitter on it. They could have been from Izzy; she’s just as flamboyant as—

Well, she’s glamorous. She likes glitter.

The Shadowhunter gets up, and he makes a point of fixing his bed—he’s not so broken-down that he can’t be bothered to keep his room together. He begins to look around the space, to try to find something, _anything,_ that Magnus liked, or had, or gave to Alec. There are a few gifts, some first-edition books and even a painting that hung beside the closet, but nothing that once belonged to Magnus and then found its way into Alec’s room.

Nothing smells like Magnus, and Alec wants to curl up in bed and go to sleep again. But he doesn’t, and he can’t, because he has a job. He’s still the head of the Institute, even with Maryse now permanently living with her children. Alec is in charge, and he figures that he has to act put-together, even when he knows he’s slowly (or quickly) falling apart.

He thinks of his mother, who always said that she had a duty to perform, even when her personal preferences thought otherwise. Finally, Alec thinks he understands. He _wants_ to be with Magnus, and he _wants_ to forgive him and live at his apartment and think about nothing but vacations and silky sheets and Magnus, but—

But he can’t.

Closing his eyes, and wiping away the very beginnings of an embarrassing cry, Alec steels himself, pulling his jacket over his tee-shirt.

He wishes it smelled like Magnus.

He has to wipe his eyes again.

Alec is normally observant, but he’s not right now, and he doesn’t notice the doorknob turn and the door swing open. Izzy is dressed and ready to begin the day, and she has the ghost of a smile playing on her lips before she catches sight of her brother.

Alec thinks he looks fine, but Izzy obviously disagrees, because she crosses the distance between the two and pulls Alec down in a hug. It’s awkward, especially given how short he is, but her grip is firm and strong, and if he weren’t currently lamenting how much he missed his—his ex-boyfriend—Alec would marvel at his little sister’s fortitude.

She forces him to sit on the bed, and she settles beside him, curling her legs up under herself. Opening his mouth to argue, to protest because they have to get started on the day, Izzy puts up a hand to silence Alec. “You’re allowed to be weak,” she assures him, “just not in front of everyone else.”

“And you?”

“You’ve seen me at my absolute worst,” she reminds him, and they both have the inkling of a flashback to a sweating and shivering and shaking Isabelle, a broken woman who had poison running through her veins. But Izzy is the first to shake it away; she’s better now, and she wants her brother to be. “But you don’t have to break down in front of me. Only if you want to.”

He doesn’t, but he eventually falls back on his bed, letting out a long sigh. “I miss him,” he whispers.

Izzy falls back beside him, and he smiles when her hair falls in front of her face and sticks to her lips. She smacks his arm in retaliation, then says, “I know. You two were really something.”

“Am I making a mistake?”

Thinking the question over for a bit, Izzy eventually shrugs. “I think, for right now, you’re not.”

He tries to believe her.

* * *

 

Alec and Magnus don’t see each other until Clary (of course it’s _Clary_ ) nearly gets herself killed. She and Alec and Izzy and Jace have been chasing a nest of demons, and it actually feels good for the four of them to be working together again. Alec thinks it’s normal, even, and he and Jace are beginning to work in tandem again.

Izzy’s whip cracks down on a demon, and it dissipates in a cloud of black smoke. Jace grins, stabbing (and missing) one of creatures with his blade. He ignores Alec’s unimpressed snort. “Nice shot, Izzy!”

“If only Jace could follow in your footsteps,” Alec adds, and he moves back so that he has more space between himself and the nest. He aims and fires an arrow right into a demon, lowering his bow even before it disappears. “Because it looks like he’s still a little rusty.”

“If I knew _I’d_ be the target,” Jace begins, swinging and finally hitting a demon, “I’d have stayed home and done paperwork.”

“Then who would we talk about?” Clary asks, and Alec actually smiles at the redhead’s remark. She’s gotten much more agile and plenty stronger since joining the Institute, and it’s now easy to admit that the young woman is a natural Shadowhunter. Beginning to thrust her blade into one of the last few demons, Clary stops and gasps. “Alec—”

He turns his head, immediately side-stepping, but the young man is still knocked aside by a large, heavy claw. It hurts, but he hadn’t been cut, and he quickly pulls himself to his feet again. He’s gotten cocky, and he’s going to have a bruise to prove it, but he’s just grateful that he’s not actually bleeding.

Clary is still watching him, and it’s her overwhelming concern for her friends that distracts her from her mission. She barely has enough time to return to the last demon before it lunges at her, and she gives a strangled cry, falling back and connecting painfully with the ground. With a quick flick of her wrist, Izzy wraps her whip around the demon, and she brings it down, killing the demon with a shock from the weapon.

Jace is the first to kneel beside Clary. She’s conscious, and her eyes are open, but she’s already bleeding heavily. The blond pulls out his stele, beginning to trace an iratze. The rune glows, but the wound doesn’t seem to let up. Cursing, Jace tries again, and Izzy joins her brother at Clary’s other side.

“Clary, hey—I need you to focus on me, okay?” the dark-haired woman says; she entwines her fingers with Clary’s, squeezing lightly. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

Alec makes sure that the iratze isn’t going to work before pulling out his phone. He stares at Magnus’s name on his contact list, and he doesn’t want to make the call, but Clary is bleeding out in front of him, and he decides that he doesn’t want Jace to yet again feel the pain of losing the redhead. He waits for the warlock to pick up, not expecting the swell of his heart when he hears the smooth (and—was that hopeful?) voice answer.

“Alexander?” Magnus asks, and Alec can almost hear the smile in the other man’s tone. “It’s been a while, how are you—”

“Sorry,” Alec says, “we have an emergency.” He hates himself for cutting Magnus off.

To Magnus’s credit, the older man doesn’t seem upset. “What did Jace get into this time?”

Alec has to fight a laugh. “Not him. Clary. She’s hurt really badly, and we can’t get an iratze to work.”

“Say no more. I’ll be there in just…a…” A portal opens, and Magnus steps through, looking every bit as perfect as ever, “second. I’m here.” The warlock pockets his phone, and he pats Alec’s shoulder before dropping beside Clary. “Not to worry, Biscuit, I’m right here,” he soothed, pushing a few pieces of bright hair away from her pale(r) face.

In an instant, Magnus has a small glow of light beginning to heal Clary. She frowns in discomfort but doesn’t fight. Alec pushes past Jace to stand beside Magnus. “Let me know if—”

“If I need your strength? I’m suddenly quite faint,” Magnus jokes back, then shakes his head. “I’m fine right now, but thank you.” He continues to work, and it doesn’t take long for the wound to submit to the magic, the skin around it closing up. Eventually, the light fades, and Magnus lets out a long huff; he’s obviously tired, but not entirely spent. “There. Good as gently-used.”

Without a word, Jace gathers Clary into his arms, and the redhead leans her head against his chest. The blond smiles lightly, holding her close. Isabelle puts her hands on her legs and pushes up, and she reaches out a hand to help Magnus up.

He almost looks surprised, but takes the offered hand, standing. “I’m assuming you’re all headed back to the Institute? I can make another portal.”

“We’re not far,” she assures him. “Thank you, Magnus.” She follows after Jace and Clary, and Alec suddenly finds himself quite alone with the warlock. It feels that way, anyway.

Magnus clears his throat, and Alec looks over. “As I was saying on the phone, it’s been a while.”

“…yeah, it has. How are you?” Alec asks, and he selfishly knows what he wants to hear, but he’s certain that Magnus will just say that he’s fine, that he’s been fine, and that he hopes that the Shadowhunter is also and equally fine.

Instead, Magnus’s smile drops. “Terrible,” he says.

“Great. Me, too—I mean, not _great_ , because I don’t want you to be terrible, obviously—”

“Obviously,” Magnus agrees.

“But I just wanted you to know that I am also not doing that great, so I’m glad—not _glad_ , just—we are both not doing well,” he finishes lamely.

Magnus nods. “Should we talk about it?”

 And again, Alec wants to, but he’s too scared. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but Magnus catches it. The older man sighs but nods. “I’m—sorry,” Alec begins, but he knows that there may never be enough apologies for the two to figure everything out.

The warlock shrugs. “Alexander, I’ve always admired your determination. I still do. Just—call, when you want to. I miss you.” He glances up, expression genuine, and Alec can’t help but smile.

“I will.”

* * *

 

This time, he does. Alec calls Magnus when he needs someone other than Izzy to talk to, and it becomes easier to dial the number. They speak for hours, and sometimes the whole night, and slowly, it becomes fun to talk to Magnus again; it’s familiar, and friendly, and neither expect anything from it.

But it’s still hard to be separated, to be exes. Alec sometimes sits at his desk, and he spaces out for too long, or he doesn’t get all his work done because he’s too busy thinking about should-have-beens with Magnus, and he’s still kicking himself for avoiding him. Alec thinks that he’s clever, though, that his family can’t tell that he hasn’t stopped breaking into pieces since they’ve broken up.

He knows that Izzy’s aware.

He just doesn’t think that someone like Max notices.

Max is perceptive, of course, and highly so. He had been aware that his parents were arguing long before Alec ever did, and he had been the first to learn Sebastian’s true identity (a skill that both impressed and terrified his entire family). But Alec doesn’t think that he’s…romantically savvy, in particular. Max is still young, and he doesn’t think anything about girls, and he is always far too blunt about his siblings’ relationships.

Alec is, of course, wrong.

Jace is reading through a report from the Clave, and Alec is flicking through a few digital documents on his tablet. The two are enjoying a comfortable silence, finally close enough again that they can convey their feelings without words. Now, they are content, and Jace is especially enjoying his life, because he and Clary have finally put some sort of definition to whatever it is that they are.

For Jace’s sake, Alec is happy. For his own, he hates it. He hates Jace being in love, because he can feel a warmth in his heart that shouldn’t be there, not when he and Magnus are still so…not together. He used to know that emotion, and he’s certain that Jace felt it far too many times when he and Clary were apart and Magnus and Alec weren’t.

Of course, the blond never said anything, and Alec determines that he won’t, either. But he hates the feeling all the same.

“You were up all night,” Jace mentions casually, and Alec puts his tablet down.

“It wasn’t all night,” he argues, and the other man rolls his eyes.

“Fine. You were up until four in the morning. Better?”

“It’s more accurate.”

Smiling at the comment, Jace continues, “You and Magnus have been talking a lot more lately. Is…that a good sign?”

Alec pauses, and he shrugs. “It’s complicated,” he says, and he hates that phrase even more than he hates the phantom happiness of Jace and Clary’s love. There was so little complicated about Alec and Magnus—they _were_ together, and now they aren’t. That was easy to explain. And they _could_ be back together, but they are not because Alec Lightwood is an idiot and refuses to talk to Magnus about it. They _were_ happy, but now they are not because Alec Lightwood is an idiot and couldn’t be bothered to tell Magnus the truth about the Soul Sword.

They were so many things. And now they are not.

That isn’t complicated.

But Jace seems pleased with the answer, nodding and returning to his report. He’s not done speaking, though. “It’s just—it’d be nice if we could both be happy at the same time, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The following silence is short-lived, as the door opens in a burst of magic, and Alec stares wide-eyed back at Magnus. The warlock looks terrified and a bit out of breath, and the Shadowhunter is out of his chair in an instant. “Magnus—what’s wrong?” he asks, crossing the office space and tactfully ignoring the now-broken door.

Magnus looks Alec over, as if surprised to see the young man in one piece, and he shakes his head. “I got your text—”

“What text?” Instinctively, Alec checks his phone, and he hasn’t sent Magnus any texts recently that could be perceived as a cry for help.

Raising an eyebrow, and looking a bit more composed, Magnus says, “You said that the Institute was under attack. You were injured? Clearly, you’re not.”

“Clearly, you’ve been played,” Jace mumbles. He pauses, then. “Last time I got a text from Alec, we lost the fake Mortal Mirror. It was a trick from Sebastian.”

The door closes again, and Magnus jumps when he sees Max right beside him. “Are we _certain_ he’s not part Seelie?” The man looks far too bothered today, and Alec almost smiles at the helpless expression.

It’s cute. But not in a creepy way.

Magnus just rarely looks so frazzled.

Max clears his throat. “I’m glad you came, Magnus,” the young Shadowhunter begins, and Jace grabs his papers, mumbling something about needing some peace and quiet before leaving the office and shutting the door behind him. Max shrugs, clearly indifferent. “Take a seat, please.”

Confused, Magnus does, where Jace had been sitting, and he looks over at Alec. The other Shadowhunter is just as unsure, but he’s not going to question his brother. Not yet, anyway.

Max paces the room, arms behind his back, and he looks like a mini-Alec, and Magnus doesn’t try to hide his smile. Alec, on the other hand, taps his foot impatiently. “Max, what did you do?”

“I’m the one who sent the text,” the young boy says, and he does so dramatically, like he was expecting someone to gasp in surprise. Instead, the High Warlock of Brooklyn just tilts his head slightly to the side. “…no, no, it’s cooler. I _ghosted_ the number; I didn’t even have to steal Alec’s phone—”

“We heard you,” Alec says.

Max groans lightly, but he admirably regains his composure. “I had to get you to the Institute, because you and Alec need to talk. He’s miserable without you—”

“ _Max_ ,” Alec warns.

He’s ignored. “And I thought that, if you guys got back together, he’d be back to being happy. You love each other, right?”

Before Alec can threaten his little brother again, Magnus holds up a hand in Alec’s direction. He has a kind smile in place as he addresses Max. “You see, Max, adults are complicated. And Alec and I are still trying to figure things out. These things take time.”

Complicated. The word returns, and Alec hates it more now than ever. He wishes that he were the only one to label his and Magnus’s relationship as _complicated_ , but the warlock is apparently doing it himself, as well. It sounds worse, coming from Magnus. It’s more thought-out, more powerful.

Much more permanent.

Max stares up at the older man for a while, and he doesn’t flinch away, and Alec has to credit his brother’s courage. Max doesn’t shrink or shy away, not like Alec does, when faced with a particularly hard choice.

Max would have told Magnus about the Soul Sword.

Magnus would have told Alec about the Soul Sword.

Alec told Izzy about the Soul Sword. He told Jace. He even told Clary. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell Magnus.

Alec realizes that his and Magnus’s relationship isn’t complicated, not really. The reason that they are not together, that they’ll never be together, is because of guilt. Alec can’t forgive himself for lying to Magnus, and he figures that he’s never going to let himself live with a man that he betrayed so spectacularly.

Even so, he nods in agreement to Magnus’s statement, and Max sighs dejectedly. Magnus stays for a few more minutes, and he makes a bit of small talk, and Alec smiles and responds at the appropriate times. But he’s not sad to see Magnus leave, and he’s even less sad when the warlock doesn’t call him that night.

It’s better, if the two try to stay apart. It makes Alec feel like less of a terrible person.

But, he decides, something has to change.

He has to try to get better, to move on. For everyone’s sake.

Everyone’s, but his own.

* * *

 

“I should be getting to bed.”

“Me, too,” Magnus agrees.

Alec holds the phone closer to his ear, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from telling the older man that he still loves him, has loved him, and will never stop loving him. He’s lucky this time, and says, “Night.”

Magnus does the same, and Alec drops his phone onto his bed. He doesn’t think anything for a bit, but then he remembers that Magnus never once said _‘I love you’_ first. He always said _‘I love you, too.’_

Alec thinks about it way too much.

* * *

 

“Have you thought about dating anyone? Again?” Alec asks his mother while the two eat dinner. It’s been a long day of filing reports and dealing with the Clave, and it wouldn’t have been so tedious had a Seelie not gone rogue and murdered a mundane. Luckily, the queen dealt with the matter herself, and while Alec still hates her, he’s more than happy to spend a few more hours dodging Clave-sized bullets than dealing with another Downworlder rebellion.

Maryse is kind enough to help her son work; she’s been a great help since Alec became head of the Institute, and he’s more than happy to share his burden with someone he admires. Not his father. Her.

At his question, though, Maryse puts her fork down. She looks up, dark eyes meeting his. “Excuse me?” she asks.

Shrugging, Alec pushes a piece of chicken around his plate. He feels like a child again, or at least a teenager, but not an adult speaking to another adult about romantic ventures. And yet, here he is—an adult, speaking to another adult, about romantic ventures. “I mean, after Dad. Do you _want_ to?”

Maryse is very quiet for a few moments, and Alec worries that he’s crossed a line. He moves to backtrack his question, but his mother surprises him by nodding. “I have. I just—I have no clue how to put myself out there. I’ve spent so long with your father, I’ve let myself be defined that way for years.”

“What do you mean?” Alec prods, and he takes a bite of his meal. The chicken doesn’t taste good, but it’s better than anything Izzy could ever throw together.

“I mean…” Maryse chooses her words carefully, and Alec admires her for that ability. He wishes he had it. “I don’t really know who I am, anymore. I was so young when Robert and I got married. I was _Robert Lightwood’s wife_. And then, I had you four—” Alec smiles, because she still considers Jace just as much her child as her biological ones, “—and I suppose that I never had time to think about who it is that I am. Or that I want to be. Now that your father and I are separated, I don’t even know what I want.”

She makes so much sense, and Alec fears that his mouth is hanging open, because Maryse is a genius, and a visionary, and a wonderful mother, and he loves her so much. But the truth of her words hit him—yes, he loves Magnus, and he may always love Magnus, but he’s spent so little time knowing who he is and even less of that time figuring it out alone, that Alec suddenly feels foreign to himself.

“Why? Did you have someone in mind?” Maryse smiles. She’s joking.

Alec isn’t when he nods. “I know that Luke’s still single.”

* * *

 

Maryse and Luke work like a dream. They’re around the same age, have children (or Clary) that are the same age, have similar backgrounds, and are generally civil toward each other. If nothing else, they’re the perfect Shadowhunter couple.

The pack leader is a bit surprised when Alec presents the proposition, because he’s never, for a day in his life, considered dating Maryse Lightwood, but the notion neither scares nor repulses him, and Luke reluctantly agrees. Alec can see it, the ghost of Jocelyn’s memory still passing the older man’s expression, and he feels another pang of guilt in his chest. If he weren’t so weak, Jocelyn would still be alive.

Luke wouldn’t look so lost.

Maybe, somehow, he and Magnus would still be together.

He doesn’t think about it long, though, and he can’t (because he would hate to show too much weakness around a fellow leader). Alec shrugs. “You don’t have to; she’s not expecting anything. I just thought it might be nice if you two got dinner together.”

“And you’re _sure_ she and Robert aren’t going to get back together?”

Alec shakes his head. “Believe me, Dad thinks he’s in love, and Mom is completely done with him. I want her to be happy.”

She deserves to be.

Luke deserves to be.

Magnus _definitely_ deserves to be happy.

Alec doesn’t.

Luke eventually holds out his hand for Alec to shake, and the younger man gives him a confused look. Smiling lightly, Luke says, “I appreciate your looking out for your mother, Alec. You’re a good man.” He says that, and the way he says it makes Alec think that the statement is multi-layered in some way.

Opting not to dwell on it, Alec nods. “Of course. If I didn’t, Jace might pick out someone for her.” He laughs when Luke grimaces. The man may support Clary and all of her decisions—even the dumb one—but he can’t help but think of Jace as the dumbest of decisions. Alec doesn’t blame him; he’s been saying the same about Clary since the day he met her. But he now knows how love works, and he supposes that Luke does, too. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, or what’s right or isn’t—if Jace and Clary are in love and want to be in love, they’ll move heaven and earth and the entire Seelie Court to remain together.

Alec secretly loves how sentimental the thought makes him. Because he still feels that way, but he’s never going to act on it.

“…how are you doing?” Luke eventually asks, very carefully, and they both know what he’s talking about.

_Everyone_ knows about Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane’s infamous break-up. It wasn’t dramatic or groundbreaking, not like their first kiss, but it had happened, but no one had really been expecting it. Not for a while, anyway.

“I’m doing good, thanks,” Alec answers. “We’re talking.”

“That’s good,” Luke nods. “Do you think there’s a chance that you two will reconcile?”

“I don’t,” Alec honestly says.

There’s nothing else to say, and Luke knows it. He pats the young Shadowhunter on the shoulder and leaves, Maryse’s number tucked safely in his pocket.

After their first date, Maryse tries to avoid Alec and Izzy’s very specific questions and eager faces. She’s not the type to divulge too much information about anything, or anyone, and she won’t make an exception, not even for a first date. Once she realizes that they’re not going to get the answers they want, Izzy huffs and settles for helping her mother take her necklace off. Alec hesitates in the doorway for a bit, but he eventually leaves and falls back onto his bed.

He moves too quickly when he hears his phone buzz. It might be Magnus, and he’s glad, because the two haven’t spoken in a few days, and he misses the sound of the warlock’s voice.

It’s a text from Luke.

_Thanks for setting us up. We’re going out again next weekend. Let me know if you ever need something._

Alec smiles at the formality and kindness of Luke’s text. He’s not surprised that the grammar is perfect, the sentences are punctuated, and the words are fully written. And he’s glad that Luke and Maryse had fun together; he certainly wasn’t going to find out by his own mother’s admission.

The Shadowhunter puts his phone down, getting up to get ready for bed.

* * *

 

Alec Lightwood hates himself. It’s a well-known fact, one that he easily and usually ignores. He hated himself when he asked Lydia Branwell to marry him (and when he ruined her wedding, but he loved himself for finally kissing Magnus), and he hated himself when Jace left with Valentine and all he could do was hold Clary so that she didn’t follow after the blond.

Alec _really_ hated himself when he killed Jocelyn Fairchild.

He hated himself for almost executing Magnus, for lying to him, for not going after him once Magnus had extended a hope of forgiveness.

But he hates himself most, right now, as he asks Luke if there are any werewolves that are specifically interested in dating an antisocial, gay Shadowhunter. Alec doesn’t want to ask, but he’s lonely, and he’s beginning to think that moving on actually requires moving on, and dating other people, and thinking less about Magnus and more about finding someone who won’t hate him and will say _‘I love you’_ first.

“You sure you actually want to start dating again?” the werewolf asks, and it’s obvious that he’s uncomfortable, but when Alec nods (perhaps a bit too eagerly), the older man just scratches the back of his neck.

“Honestly, you really don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” Alec quickly says. “I just—it seems like it’s the right time.”

Giving the Shadowhunter a skeptical look, Luke sighs. “I agree, but…have you and Magnus talked about this yet? I mean—” he clearly doesn’t know where he wants to go with this conversation, “—are you two definitely not getting back together?”

Alec pauses. He hasn’t even thought about asking Magnus if it’s alright to start seeing other people. He’s not sure that he’s supposed to, but now he wants to take the question back, and he’s already looking for the easiest escape route.

Fortunately, Luke manages to bring the topic back to the original question. “This’ll be good for you, I swear. It’s just—I’m not really sure about everyone’s—” he stumbles, but Maia, the cute werewolf with the curly hair, intercepts the conversation.

She pushes Luke out of the way, gently, and hands Alec a shot glass filled with something. He doesn’t hesitate before throwing it back, wincing at the burn in the back of his throat. Luke shoots him a half-worried, half-sympathetic look, but Maia pats him on the shoulder.

“You look like you could use a shot of courage,” she tells him, and Alec’s eyes widen.

“Is this magic?”

“It’s rum. So, close enough.”

"What brand is it?"

Maia shrugs. "Mount Gay." Noticing the Shadowhunter's sudden discomfort, she chuckles. "I'm just kidding, it's Cockspur." Alec looks away, and the young werewolf almost feels bad. "Seriously, it's Bacardi. You're going to feel that,"she grins, and Alec returns a forced smile. “Anyway, I know about four different guys from the pack that may or may not have expressed some interest in getting to know the head of the New York Institute on a more personal level.”

He blinks, shocked. “Yeah?”

“Power’s sexy,” Maia replies, shrugging. “You want to stay away from Michael—he’s more of a one-night stand kind of guy, and you’re definitely not.” The young werewolf drags her eyes over Alec, and she nods. “Definitely not. Personally, I wouldn’t touch Hermes with a ten-foot pole.”

“With a name like that,” Alec smirks.

“Good. The rum’s working. Your best bets are Sal and Lincoln.”

Luke looks stunned. “Sal? Really?”

“Your point?” Maia retorts, rolling her eyes. She turns her attention back to Alec. “If I were you, and I were trying to rebound from Magnus Bane—I have my own opinions on that one, by the way—”

“Everyone does.”

“—I would go for Lincoln. He’s hot, he’s tall, he’s a little older than you. Nothing serious, but he’s not opposed to something down the road if the date’s good enough.”

Alec regrets this decision already, and he makes sure that he has the door in his sight. He wants to bolt out of there, and then find a good book to not read in bed, and he doesn’t want to sleep, but he wants the option to; he’s not ready for a date. If he wasn’t ready to talk to Magnus, and he’s not even ready to move on from Magnus, then he can’t be ready for a date with a man that isn’t Magnus.

He’s grounded by a firm hand on his shoulder. Maia’s staring at him, gaze level. “He’s not pushy; he’s not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. But he thinks you’re hot.”

Hot. Alec’s been sidelined yet again, and he’s not sure what to think about it. For so long, he’s been used to thinking that Magnus Bane is the only person in the world to consider him attractive. And now, some werewolf named Lincoln thinks the exact same thing?

It’s shocking, really.

Luke takes this lapse of talking to check on other members of his pack, and Maia settles herself beside Alec. She smells nice, like a fruity perfume, but he can’t help but slide over a bit. She doesn’t mention it.

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready, though,” Maia assures him. She smiles a bit, and Alec finally understands why Jace was somewhat obsessed with the young woman for a few days. “I like Magnus, a lot more than I like you. But you’re clearly going through an identity crisis, and if you want to meet someone else, I think you should. You…you can’t live in the past.” She pats his hand, and he glances over, unsure of what to say. Maia smirks, getting up so that she can get back to the rest of the customers. “You really seem like the kind of guy that deserves to be happy.”

Alec opens his mouth to respond.

“Or you can keep lying to yourself.”

He closes it.

Maia taps the table with her hand, then sashays away, topping off a man’s drink as she passes. Luke looks back to Alec’s table, a bit worriedly, but the young Shadowhunter is already pulling himself up to follow after the bartender. Without a word, she pulls out her cellphone and holds it out to Alec, and he types something into her phone before handing it back to her and making a beeline for the door.

“He’s gonna call,” Maia calls after him.

Alec sincerely hopes he doesn’t.

* * *

 

He does, though. Lincoln has a deep, smooth voice, and it makes Alec think of honey or melted caramel or something stereotypical like that. He seems nice, and he speaks with Alec for only a few minutes before they make plans to have dinner together the next Friday. It won’t be anything serious, but it will be a date, and the thought of it makes Alec extremely nervous.

Izzy is delighted at the prospect, though. At least, she pretends to be, because a part of her is still wishing that Alec and Magnus could try to talk and work on their relationship. She tells her brother as much, and he good-naturedly rolls his eyes. “He’s offered, Izzy.”

“Then why haven’t you? Alec, you still want to be with him. He still wants to be with you. Is it really so crazy to think that those might be good reasons to get back together?”

Shrugging, Alec turns away from his sister. He knows that she’s right, and his hand is already itching to dial Magnus’s number, but he keeps himself in check. He’s still not entirely sure why he refuses to even consider reconciling with Magnus, but the young man suspects that he’s just a coward.

Somehow, it might be easier to just pull the plug entirely, than to keep their relationship on life support for the next few months.

“He makes you happy,” Izzy mutters, and Alec turns back around. She looks half-defeated herself, even though she’s not the one struggling with being newly single. “He’s the only person who’s ever made you this happy.”

Then, maybe he doesn’t deserve to be happy.

“Then, maybe I should try to find something else that makes me happy. You know, not just Magnus. Like, a hobby, or something?” He offers a small smile, but Izzy doesn’t look any less upset.

“Yeah? Try knitting, not sex,” she grumbles, walking out of the room, the click of her boots and jingle of her bracelets gradually retreating with her.

Alec sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. His hand goes for the phone in his pocket, and he has to stop himself from calling Magnus right then and there. They haven’t spoken in nine days, and Alec is counting, but he was the last one to call Magnus, so he settles on waiting for the phone call.

After two more days of radio silence, Alec’s phone rings, and he answers it before even checking whose name lights up the screen. Somehow, he knows it’s Magnus; he answers with a too-excited, “Hello?”

“Alexander,” Magnus breathes, and Alec smiles at the sound of the warlock’s voice. His voice is even more decadent than honey, and far smoother than hot caramel. It’s so delicious it can’t even be compared to a food, because there’s not a taste good enough to match the sound of Magnus’s voice. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Alec sits down at his desk, and he leans forward. “You?”

“I’ve had a few rowdy customers, but nothing a man of my caliber can’t handle. I was out of the city last week, and I just didn’t have the time to call. Sorry about that. But,” Magnus sighs heavily, pleasantly, “enough about me. What’s new with you?” He sounds genuinely interested, and Alec’s blood runs cold at the faintest notion of telling Magnus what he’s been up to lately.

He knows that he has nothing to feel guilty about, but he feels like he does, anyway.

Instead of really speaking about himself, Alec says, “I set my mom and Luke up on a date, and they really ran with it. So, that’s been…that.” He laughs lightly, and he can hear the warlock faintly do the same.

They both know that there’s more to say, and Alec silently prays that Magnus won’t bring it up. But another part of the Shadowhunter hopes more than anything that he will, so that he can tell Alec that he’s making a mistake, and that he should just come over and spend the night at Magnus’s place, and _not_ go on a date with a caramel-voiced werewolf named Lincoln.

“…Izzy called,” Magnus offers.

Panicking, Alec stands, already running his free hand through his hair. He’s not sure if he can take another blowout. “I was going to tell you—”

“You didn’t have to,” Magnus responds, and his tone is unbelievably gentle. He’s always like that, though—Magnus Bane is nothing if not the calm before the storm. He’s the promise of danger, a bit beguiling and more than a bit tricky, but always beautiful.

Alec loves him for that, but he’s also scared. Seems to be the common theme, lately.

Before Alec can say anything else, Magnus adds, “Alexander, I want you to be happy. More than anything, I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything. I love—”

Alec tenses, and he closes his eyes. He just needs Magnus to say that last word, that _‘you’_ , and everything might make sense again. All he needs is to know that Magnus wants to fight for their relationship, despite how little there is left of it.

“—knowing what’s going on in your life. I miss you.”

What Magnus says is close enough, and Alec is already considering calling things off with Lincoln. He’s too wistful for his own good, though, and common sense pulls the Shadowhunter back to reality. His small laugh is too hollow, and he figures that Magnus can tell that something’s off.

“I appreciate that. I’ll…let you know what happens, if you want.”

“Just let me know that you’re okay.”

He isn’t.

“Magnus,” Alec begins, and the name feels like poison on the tongue, “I appreciate how understanding you’ve been about all this. I—I thought that I just needed more time, but then I got plenty of it—”

“I’d say,” Magnus jokes, not at all bitter but completely pleasant. He’s too good for Alec.

“—and I haven’t been able to do anything with it. I wanted to talk to you, and I’m so glad that we are now. But it’s just—I haven’t said anything really important, you know? And I’m not sure how to go about it, so…do you have anything to say?”

For the scariest of seconds, Magnus says nothing, and Alec fears that he’s overstepped yet another boundary, pushed Magnus too far yet again. But the other man lets out a quick breath, and—is it shaky?—says, “I don’t regret us.”

Alec nods, and he almost agrees, but then he’s struck by the realization that Magnus just addressed one of the things that has terrified him the most. This relationship, them, it hadn’t been a waste. And it was good, and they were good together, and now they weren’t, but Magnus didn’t hate Alec for that.

Strangely, Alec hates himself just a little less. He eventually smiles and sits back down. “I don’t either,” he admits. He sees a young woman standing in front of the doorway, and she mouths something about a demon’s nest, and Alec inwardly groans, turning his attention back to the phone conversation. “Hey, I have to get going. Demon…thing.” He squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment, chancing a look at the other Shadowhunter, who appears to mirror his feelings.

“Keep our dear Biscuit out of trouble, hmm?” Magnus chuckles.

“I don’t know if that’s possible.”

Magnus laughs again. “Alright, alright. I’ll be on-call, then. You need to stay out of danger, too. Deal?”

“Deal.” The young man gets up and begins to put a few pieces of paper away.

Neither of them say anything until Magnus mutters the softest, “I love you.”

Alec not-accidentally ends the call before he can even think about responding. He stands in his office, eyes wide and mouth agape, then lets his gaze wander back to his phone. The poor girl who’s on the tips of her feet, ready for a mission, finally decides to leave him to his conflict. The door slams shut behind her, and Alec sinks back into his chair.

All of a sudden, he feels less empty and more alive, and Magnus finally said the completely right thing, and the Shadowhunter considers ditching the mission to run over to Magnus’s apartment. But he remembers that he has a date with Lincoln, and he stops himself.

He’s already left one woman at the altar—would it be so wrong to go on a date with someone else?

* * *

 

It isn’t Jace that notices the shift in Alec’s personality; it’s Maryse.

The older woman knocks on his office door, still so proud that her son actually has an office, that he’s the head of the Institute. She doesn’t wait for a greeting, walking in and placing a kind hand on Alec’s shoulder. He looks tired but less miserable, and he glances up, giving the woman a small smile.

“Kids these days—they just stay out all night with their boyfriends, never take the time to call and say when they’ll be home,” he says sarcastically, and Maryse ducks her head, caught.

“Yes, well, I figure that I owe Isabelle that. She’s been giving me grief for years.”

“Give her some credit, she hasn’t been nearly as bad as you or me lately.” He puts a folder away, then picks up his tablet. “Not that I don’t love a distraction, but did you need something?”

Maryse is quite careful when she replies, “Did something happen between you and Magnus? You’ve just been so…pleasant, lately?”

“I wasn’t before?”

She shakes her head and gives him a knowing look. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he agrees. “And, no. I, um, actually have a date tonight, with someone else.” He looks down, because he knows that Maryse will only give him a shocked expression in response. He doesn’t want to hear how much of a mistake he’s making before he’s even gone on the date yet. It might be everything he’s ever wanted, or it might not be.

But he owes it to himself to find out. Right?

“I think you should go,” Maryse tells him, and Alec nods. “Are you excited?”

No. He isn’t. Alec looks down, away from his mother, and he shakes his head. “I…know what I _want_ to do, but I—I’m still scared. What if, you know, we just end up having another fight, and then I hurt him again—”

“And what if he hurts you again?” Maryse asks.

Alec would let him. He knows he would, and he hates how weak that makes him seem. He’s always been one of the strongest Shadowhunters, the top of the Institute (and now the head of it), the calmest under pressure, and the most resolute of his siblings. But when it comes to Magnus, Alec knows for a fact that he would let the warlock break his heart as many times as he wants.

Because he loves Magnus.

“I…don’t know,” Alec mutters.

Maryse kneels down, and she’s shorter than Alec, even when he’s sitting, and takes his hands in her own. “Being in love is terrifying, I know that. And sometimes, it can’t work out, no matter how hard we try. But, that doesn’t mean that we have to be so scared of it that we run away from it. People get hurt in relationships. Believe me.” She smiles, the expression a bit broken, and even when she’s so happy with Luke, it’s obvious that Maryse misses her marriage. Or, at least parts of it.

“But…you have to take chances?” he mumbles.

“As your mother, I don’t want you to ever get hurt. But, I can’t protect you from everything, especially not love. I tried hard enough the first time.” Maryse stands to her full height, and Alec follows suit. “I just—I don’t want you to do something that can’t ever be undone.” The older woman leans over and kisses the top of his head. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”

It’s not long after she leaves that Alec pulls out his cellphone. He hates doing this, _again_ , but he dials Lincoln’s number and gives such a terrible apology about having to cancel for the night, and it’s even worse because he’s so understanding about it.

Maia was right—Lincoln wasn’t pushy at all.

And Alec just wants to feel like himself again, even if he never really knew who that was before Magnus. Either way, Alec throws himself into leading; he’s present to train the younger Shadowhunters, and he allows himself more free time with his family.

Alec even finds that he doesn’t have the energy to hate Jace and Clary as a couple anymore. Sometimes, he even thinks that they fit nicely together.

It’s easier to survive, knowing that Magnus loves Alec, but it’s hard because they still seem so far apart. They talk on the phone, a few times a week, but two months pass without their seeing each other. It’s a little sad, how quickly time passes once Alec has caught his stride, and he’s more than jarred when he can’t quite remember the exact shade of gold that encompass Magnus’s eyes when he displays his warlock mark.

Still, he figures that Magnus has forgotten the placement of all of Alec’s runes, and the young man supposes that that’s a fair trade-off.

Except it isn’t, and Alec finds himself in a rush to get to Magnus’s loft. He throws his leather jacket on over his shoulders and tells Jace to hold down the Institute for a few hours (or maybe even the whole night), and hurries toward the front of the Institute.

Alec puts his phone away, and he throws his jacket on over his shoulders. He tells Jace to hold down the Institute for a few hours (or maybe the whole night), and hurries toward the front of the Institute. He pushes down a wave of nervousness and nausea, throws off every ounce of guilt that he still possesses, and he opens the door.

Magnus is staring back at him, hand in the air as if he were actually going to knock on the front door, and Alec half-expects him to immediately pull himself together and smile charmingly, but he doesn’t.

For once, Magnus Bane looks terrified.

“Magnus, I—I was going to—” the taller man stutters. He wants to gather the older man into his arms, to clutch onto his jacket, and bury his face in Magnus’s shoulder, just like he did the first time he said _‘I love you.’_ But he doesn’t. Alec stays put and stops himself from speaking.

“I know, and I shouldn’t be here, but…” the warlock trails off, and Alec raises his eyebrows. “…but don’t go.”

Too confused to say anything, the Shadowhunter just listens.

“I’ve been going over and over in my head everything that went wrong between us, and there are so many things that we can’t change, but there are still some that we can. You said that we can have it all, our lives and each other, and you’re right. I know you are, and I know that we can fix this…us.” Magnus pauses, looking as if he has to steel himself. “But, if you want me to leave, I will, and I won’t bother you again, but Alexander, I’ve been alive for a very long time.”

“…” Alec nods, still mute, and still unsure as to where Magnus is going.

“And I have never met anyone like you. And I never will again.” Magnus smiles, and he continues, “I have loved so many people, but I have never loved someone the way I love you. Alec, I’ve been a mess these past few months, I—I haven’t known what to do with myself, and I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“...”

“When I heard that you were going on a date, I was crushed, but I didn’t say anything, because I want you to be happy.” Magnus doesn’t dare reach out yet, and Alec doesn’t blame him. They’ve been so strange with each other lately. “I still do, but…but I think it’s with me. We’re meant to be together.”

Alec’s still too scared to say anything.

“I don’t want to keep messing up the timing between us. I didn’t fight for us, but I’m not giving up now. And we can figure everything out tomorrow, or the next day—we can spend the rest of—you know—”

“My life?”

“Your life, figuring out the rest. I just need to know what you want to do tonight.”

“I—”

“I love you,” Magnus interrupts. “I forgot to add that.” He smiles, and it’s a very cute smile, very hopeful and quite convincing, because Alec melts at the sight.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

“Royal or Navy?” Magnus asks, holding up two different swatch samples of silk bedsheets. The blues are hardly different from each other, but Alec pretends to take a long look at both, and he even adds a thoughtful hum in for good measure.

With a fake-thoughtful feel of the fabrics, the Shadowhunter eventually nods. “Royal.” He’s not sure of the correct answer, but the quick peck his lips receive seems to be rather telling. “Are we really thinking about redecorating again?”

“We are,” Magnus responds, and he flicks his wrist, the two squares of silk disappearing. “I like to have our options open. Different sheets for different occasions, you know.”

The younger man laughs lightly. “Oh, of course. I mean, the color of the bedsheets will completely determine how heated the night will get.”

“I knew you’d understand.”

Alec rolls his eyes playfully and gets up, going to get himself a glass of water. He glances behind him to see Magnus flipping through a catalogue, and he smiles to himself. He’s happy, they’re happy, their sheets will be here by Thursday (or Tuesday, if Magnus decides on a rush delivery), and they’re going to Venice for dinner tonight. Could be worse.

He doesn’t even notice when an arm snakes around his waist, only looking down when Magnus pulls him a bit closer. “I love you,” the man mutters, and the tone of his voice tells Alec that they may have to push their dinner reservation back by an hour or two.

“I love me, too,” the younger man jokes, and it’s only really a half-joke, because he realizes then that he hasn’t hated himself in weeks, and he’s more than surprised to find out that he even thinks that he deserves to be loved (and maybe, on a good day, even adored) by Magnus Bane.

It’s only taken twenty-plus years, some odd months, and a whirlwind-turned-domestic relationship with an all-powerful warlock.

And, on occasion, a couple shots of Bacardi. That stuff was magic.

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was something new for me, since I haven't written for this fandom yet, but 2x18 just about killed me, so I had to get this monster of a guy out before 2x19 or 2x20 makes it not canon. This isn't my usual writing style, either, so this whole thing is just me winging it. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Let me know what you think!


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